Funny that my turn to blog comes on a day where the subject is being 'prompt'... because the worse moments of my day is when I'm on my way somewhere and there's really bad traffic and I'm getting cranky ...
Oh, well, ... um... lessee ... blog about the Prom, huh?
Okay, here's my entire knowledge of prom, in just one sentence:
" ....... "
Did you get that? No? Okay, I'll type it again.
Here goes: "........"
That's right. I got nothing (double negative, I know).
Anyway, I'm sure the other Teen Seen authors have all kinds of fun memories of the stress and/or excitement of finding a prom date or avoiding same, picking out a tux or dress (aka dressing up all goofy), arranging impressive transportation to the event, planning hair, nails, suntans, picking a king and queen, partying afterwards ... throwing up after afterwards .. and all that.
Not me. I never went to prom. I never wanted to go to prom. I got the heebie jeebies just thinking about it, for two really, really good reasons.
First of all, I was very shy. I mean painfully shy. My face went from normal to scarlet red in a blink. My face made traffic lights jealous. The capillaries feeding my blush reflex were as finely toned as Madonna's abs.
The second is my ineptness, no, more like my dangerousness on a dance floor - ask my wife and kids about this source of occasional jocularity. The movement of my limbs and the music are as much in sync as a hippo ice skating. Except the hippo would be far more graceful. I went to only one dance in high school - the Sadie Hawkins one - and legend has it I caused three twisted knees, two sprained ankles and one embarrassing hip check into the punch bowl.
So maybe the point to this post is that the subject of prom isn't positive for all high school kids. Some (of us) dreaded it, seeing it either as another memory of social failure, lack of financial wherewithal or proof that some of us can't party like a lemur (if you saw Madagascar).
So Prom? ... I got nothing. But prompt? Yeah, that I can handle.
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